


I Can't Drown My Demons (They Know How to Swim)

by shiny_starlight



Series: Pave the Way [2]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alec Lightwood Deserves Nice Things, Alec is not treated well in this fic, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, But he still doesn't get them in this fic, Gen, Homophobia, Imprisonment, Injured Alec Lightwood, Injury, M/M, Post 2 x 18, Racism, SUCH assholes, The Clave are assholes, again I'm sorry, no seriously, physical violence, self injury, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-05-28 01:54:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15038135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shiny_starlight/pseuds/shiny_starlight
Summary: Stuck in Alicante, and with Shadowhunter relations with the Downworld crumbling, Alec thought it couldn't get much worse.Then he hears some news that lets him know just how wrong he was.(Sequel to 'Who's to Say (What' s Wrong or Right) )





	I Can't Drown My Demons (They Know How to Swim)

**Author's Note:**

> So I am back! You guys were so amazing and had such a good response to the first fic, I decided to make it a series. There will be a main series focusing on Alec, and another set of interludes, extras and side stories that deal with the background stuff. I have it planned, I am just a slow writer, so please be patient with me. 
> 
>  
> 
> This is an AU set in a slightly cannon divergent universe. Basically, everything happens the same up until the last few minutes of 2 x 18. Magnus still broke up with Alec, and Alec is still devastated. However, the Angel doesn't send the vision to Clary just yet, so they don't know that the Mortal Mirror is Lake Lynn. In those extra few days, Alec makes the decision to help the Downworld take down Valentine and does so before anyone can stop him. Clary is then given the vision of Lake Lynn being the Mirror, but they don't act on is as Valentine is dead and Alec is in a spot of legal trouble with the Clave. They don't pass on that information to the Inquisitor and she doesn't push for more she is distracted by Alec being a rebel. Hope that makes sense!  
>  
> 
> Ginormous thanks to the fabulous [MaiKageshi](http://archiveofourown.org/users/MaiKageshi/pseuds/MaiKageshi) for betaing this monster whilst being busy with college and being ill. You are a sincere superstar, my dear. xx
> 
> Title from [Can you Feel My Heart?](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QJJYpsA5tv8) by Bring Me The Horizon (Yes, the titles to my fic do usually come from the music I love, so be prepared for a lot of Pop Punk/Rock/Emo lyrics coming your way... sorrynotsorry)

The ceiling span in lazy circles above him.

His body ached and his head hurt. A painful throbbing seared at the back of his head,  echoing the frantic beats of his heart. Magnus’ name laid heavily on his tongue, begging to burst forth with each and every breath he took. Only the knowledge that the flare of pain from his Confinement rune would send his already battered body into unconsciousness made him held his tongue. He could feel Jace’s worry and panic through their shared Parabatai rune, but all he could really focus on was Magnus and how he had entirely consumed his thoughts.

Was he still alive? They said he’d been badly injured; they _gloated about it_. Hell, they outright taunted him. Magnus and Maia were amongst the injured and the possibly dead. Were they dead? Did they get away? If they did, how? Did someone help them? Was the most important person in his life even alive right now? There was no way for Alec to find out. No one would tell him, Greystairs would’ve made sure of that. He seemed to have taken up a perverse pleasure in keeping Alec up to date with the rapidly deteriorating relationship between the Clave and the Downworld, particularly the war zone that New York was becoming. He would give Alec just enough information, but torture him by never giving any details, and it was breaking Alec’s heart.

“Magnus,” he whispered brokenly, unable to stop himself or the tears that stung his eyes. Pain seared through him, centred on the Confinement rune on his neck and not a second later, Alec slipped into bleak unconsciousness.

 

 

Seven months. Alec had been at the Alicante Institute for seven months, three weeks and two days. And he hated every single second of it. He hated every single moment they forced him away from his family and his home. Unfortunately, he'd been proven correct when he'd realised that he would find no friends here in Idris. Many of those working and living in the Alicante Institute were of those most loyal to the Clave and its edicts, and so his being there was tolerated, at best. At worst? Well... Alec was getting used to the vitriol thrown in his way as he was escorted down the long corridors each day. It was almost interesting to see just how many ways they could rephrase _‘Downworld-Loving Scum’_ into new and cutting ways in their attempts to hurt him.

Alec had almost grown immune to it at this point. So what if he did love those in the Downworld? Many of his friends as well as the man he loved were good, honest and decent people that just happened to Downworlders. Those insults didn't really faze him nearly as much as they’d probably hoped they would. He definitely preferred those to the ones that attacked his sexuality and his relationship with Magnus. Now, those insults just made him furious and itching to reach out and show them just how quickly a ‘cock-sucking fag’ could knock them on their asses and keep them there.

But Alec refrained.

Because of the Inquisitor’s ruling, he knew that he had very little scope to rebel if he ever wanted to see his loved ones again. So, he had to play the part; which meant head down, act contrite and don’t talk back. Follow your orders and never think for yourself. It was an act that Alec had perfected so well through his long teenage years, no longer was it just a facade that hid his true persona. In more ways than one, he became the perfect soldier. It had taken meeting and getting to know Magnus to bring out the best parts of him, and Alec loved him so much for that. He couldn't fathom never seeing the other man again, so he bided his time, played the part of the dutiful soldier as he waited for his opportunity to strike.

Alec knew from living with Hodge for almost his entire life that the Confinement rune was nearly impossible to get rid of once is had been placed on your skin. He still didn't know how Valentine had done it for his former friend: it was meant to be permanent and completely unbreakable. And in an unimaginable streak of cruelty, the Inquisitor had ordered Greystairs to ensure the rune will burn and flare whenever he spoke Magnus’ name, much like Hodge’s had when he tried to talk about Valentine or the Circle. He couldn't even say the word Warlock without being nearly brought to his knees in agony. Alec was just thankful that the rune couldn't read his thoughts, because he would not be able to function otherwise. Magnus was never far from his mind.

Ironic how a year ago, blind obedience to his orders wouldn’t even have been a problem. He would’ve died for the Clave if they had told him to, and thanked them for the opportunity to do so. But a year ago, he wouldn’t have been in the position at all. He would never have gone against the Clave, never have committed treason, never have dared to look beyond the rhetoric he’d been fed his entire life.

 

Alec really didn’t like the person he had been a year ago anymore.

  


He was responsible for overseeing the final training of the slightly older teenagers - the ones who had already had substantial training and were preparing for Parabatai ceremonies and assignments around the world. Some had been out on hunts already, but most of them had been kept in Alicante due to the spiralling tensions with the Downworld. Alec’s job was to refine their fighting skills, provide them with a sparring partner and to give them advice on the best ways to survive a hoard of Shax demons while only being armed with a seraph dagger. And despite the fact that he was here on punishment, Alec really did try his best to guide them. If he could stop one kid from dying in the hands of a demon attack, he would do his best. And these kids were almost ready to go. He wasn’t allowed near the younger, more impressionable Shadowhunters as there was no way in hell Greystairs was going to let Alec ‘turn  them into Downworld-Loving Scum like him.’

Since the very first day of his confinement, he’s had a rotation of 12 guards that were assigned to escort him to the training areas several times a day for his classes and back to his room afterwards.There was an occasional side trip to the gym, but that was as far as his freedom outside allowed him. He ate his meals in his room, and sometimes, they let him have some books, but that was basically it. Alec didn’t remember what they had done to Hodge when he first had the rune placed on him, but he was sure that his parents would at least have let him loose in the institute after a few weeks, even under guard.

Alec’s own guards weren’t exactly what one would call friendly. They clearly resented being pulled off active duty to ‘babysit the traitor’ and they weren't afraid to let him know it. They were mostly silent; gruff when giving him orders and none too gentle when they pat him down for weapons or a stele _every time_  they left the armoury on the way back to his room. They also did nothing to stop the verbal abuse thrown Alec’s way as they walked through the corridors.

While most of them were stoic and chose not to speak to him; there were two of the bunch who were just raging assholes. Philip Dawntide and Malcolm Springwell were very much displeased with their assigned guard duty and they were pretty vocal about it. They liked to bully and taunt Alec as they walked. In fact, they had even started up a scoring system for the best insults from their colleagues, or the ones that made Alec twitch with rage most. Those guys were _assholes,_ and Alec knew assholes. Jace could be a momentous dick at times, but Alec still loved the idiot despite his many faults.

 

He’d been trying not to think about Jace too much. It had been different when Valentine had kidnapped Jace and his Parabatai had cut off contact through their runes. This wasn’t a complete disconnect, but more of a dampening of the connection, and this time, Alec was the one doing it. He didn’t feel as unbalanced as he did back then, but despite the dulling of the bond, he could still feel Jace’s sense of loss and anger layering over his own, adding to the ache of the physical distance between them. It made him miss his brother even more than he thought possible. Being apart from his parabatai wasn’t just cruel: it was torture.  

 

Alec tried not to dwell on it too much. It never worked.

  


Over the months of Alec’s ‘good behaviour’, his guards themselves had all eased up a bit on their constant supervision during the actual training sessions. During the first two weeks of his classes, his guards had all had their seraph blades out and ready the entire time, as if he was going to attack them or one of the kids at any second. What good would that have done him? He had the rune on his neck, and he couldn’t leave. Besides, he didn’t hate his students. They were just kids; some of them were naturally going to be little shits given their parentage and the attitudes of the people around them, but they listened to him. They clearly didn't like him, but they knew that he spoke from many years of experience on the front lines, so they listened. The kids were pretty well trained at this point; Alec was just smoothing out the rough edges.   


Though presently, because Alec was clearly not intending to escape or to cause trouble, his guards had relaxed a little during the actual training sessions. Ever since they realised how he wasn't going to suddenly start swinging for one of the kids or abruptly try making a break for it,  they would now stand and chat as he instructed his classes. Their hands weren’t even constantly hovering over their weapons at all times, so it was a small amount of progress, if any at all.   


 

Alec had been feeling off all morning. He wasn’t ill, but it was almost as if there was an itch under his skin that wouldn’t go away and that made him feel on edge. He’d already had one training session early that morning, so he had come back full of adrenaline and feeling worse. He just couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

His internal clock told him that it was almost 11am, and so he was ready when a sharp rap of knuckles on the door heralded his escorts for the next few hours. He’d been pacing for a while, full of pent up energy which was directed into opening the door with a bit more vigour and force than usual. He withheld his grimace as the open door gave way to Springwell and Dawntide. By the Angel, Alec was not up to dealing with these assholes today. Still, he straightened his spine and silently followed them to the armoury.

The two of them seemed especially cheerful today; grinning at each other behind Alec's back, though withholding the causal homophobic insults they would usually throw his way. As they walked through the bustling corridors, Alec noticed more people than usual stopping to look at him and to whisper behind their hands as he passed. His hackles and suspicions were raised, he tried to get a glimpse of the screens in the main ops room as they passed but Springwell shoved him forward quickly with a roughly ordered “move”. The force of the blow actually made Alec stumble a little, but he managed to spin around on instinct. Malcolm rested his hand on his weapon in a silent threat, warranting a glare from Alec before he turned and marched towards the armoury.

His nagging feeling that something was wrong never eased.

  


It was coming to the end of his lesson when it happened. Dawntide, who had been slouching against the wall the entire time as he watched the proceedings with an unsettling gleam in his eyes, cleared his throat deliberately and briefly drawing all eyes to him. Alec ignored him as best he could, focusing most of his attention on Grace, the young kid in front of him who was having trouble with blocking blows on her weaker side. Still, a part of him kept an ear out for Dawntide and he hated himself for it, because it was exactly what he wanted.

“Say Malcolm,” he began, voice saccharine sweet and twice as fake, “have you heard the latest from New York?”

Alec froze, fear washing over him as Springwell replied in faux surprise.

“Why no, is there anything to tell?”

“Oh yes. Lots of news. Heard that Aldertree finally grew a pair and took out some of the Downworld leaders.”

Ice shot through Alec's veins at those words. He didn't want to know what kind of face he made because Grace, who was usually one of the most aloof and snobbish towards Alec, stepped forward and went to put a comforting hand on his arm before she caught herself.

They all knew why he was there. They knew what this meant.

“They managed to track down that so called ‘Downworld Council’ to a cute little bar called the Hunters Moon,” Dawntide continued, utter glee in his tone as he walked towards Alec's frozen figure. All pretence of casualness was abandoned as he circled him.

Alec couldn't breathe.

No. No no no nonononono.

By the Angel, that explained everything: the looks, the whispers, his bully’s shameless delight.

“What happened?” Alec asked quietly, voice wavering as images of Magnus and his friends flashed before his eyes: Magnus lying in a pool of blood, his beautiful eyes devoid of light as they stared into emptiness... Luke nothing but a bloodied corpse beside a pile of ash that once used to be Simon... If anyone got hurt or worse...

“What happened?” Dawntide mocked, playing to his audience. Alec’s students had formed a loose circle around them and he lapped up the attention. Silently, Springwell joined him in stride, circling Alec like vultures waiting to strike. “What happened is that Aldertree finally grew a pair, did his divine duty and got rid of those dogs.”

“Vampires, werewolves, warlocks. They were all there. And they paid for their crimes,” Springwell taunted.

Alec flinched hard at the word ‘warlocks’, the agony that shot through him that had nothing to do with his rune.

“What were their actual crimes?” he asked coldly, anger and pain helping to break him free from his body’s frozen shock. “What did they actually do to break the accords? Or were they committing a ‘crime’ by just existing? Having Downworld blood?”

“They're part demon and that’s reason enough for them to be exterminated,” Springwell pushed him causing Alec to stumble back a step. “It's our divine fucking duty.”

“Not when you are murdering innocent people!” Alec pushed back.

Both Dawntide and Springwell drew their seraph blades as a clear warning, but Alec didn't care.

“Is he alive?” he demanded.

“Who?” Dawntide smirked.

“You fucking well know who. Magnus Bane. Is he still alive?” Alec replied, hissing as his rune flared and pain coursed through him. But he stood firm. At this point, he did. Not. Care.

“You know, I don't rightly know…”, Springwell smirked. “There were so many bodies, and of course the place was torched afterwards so it will take a while to identify them all. If they even bother …”

“I heard though that the cat eyed demon warlock got hurt pretty bad helping that dog of a bartender.”

“That's true. Aldertree is proud of having gotten to him himself.”

“But is he alive?” Alec shouted.

“Wouldn't you like to know?” Dawntide smirked and Alec snapped.

Alec’s guards had spent months watching him train others. They'd seen him teach the kids with patience and skill, guiding them through new techniques and battle positions. They’d seen him train and push himself the few times he'd been allowed to blow off some steam in the gym. They'd even seen and laughed at the yoga positions Izzy had taught him years ago as a way wind down. He’d recently started practicing again in his room to keep his flexibility up as he no longer had his stele or runes to rely on.

They’d never seen Alec actually properly fight; not for his life nor for someone he loves.

They were wholly unprepared.

Quick as a flash, Alec spun on the balls of his feet and raised a leg, striking Springwell in the side of the head with a perfect roundhouse kick, dropping him like a stone before he could even blink. His momentum carried him through and as he landed gracefully, he punched Dawntide in the face like he'd been dying to for months. He'd had a few seconds of warning when Alec had dealt with his friend, so whilst the punch landed hard, he'd managed to deflect enough that it didn't knock him out completely, and in turn he raised his seraph blade in defence. Alec had never dropped his own blade from where he'd been giving his demonstration to Grace, and he parried the blow with ease.

He pushed forward, his anger and fear giving him strength, dodging the swings of the seraph blade as Dawntide tried and failed to gain the upper hand. Within moments, Alec had forced him backwards towards the kids training gear lying just behind them, causing him to stumble. In a matter of seconds, he had disengaged the seraph blade and swung the hilt of it into the side of his head. It was a non-lethal blow, and Dawntide was out cold before he hit the floor.

Alec felt no pride in his victory. His only thought was for Magnus. He had to know if he was okay. He had to get to New York… He engaged his blade again and heard the gasps as the kids who'd been staring at him in shock armed themselves.  But they didn't move. They stared at him as if they'd never seen him before.

Surely they'd known he'd been holding back with them? It wasn't just pure nepotism that had gotten him the position as head of the New York Institute. He was one of the best Shadowhunters of his generation. With Jace Herondale as his parabatai, he needed to keep up. But instead of turning the blade on them, he brought it to this own neck. To the rune that kept him there: the Confinement rune.

His scream of agony as he tried to cut through the rune echoed through the hallways.

Blood poured from his neck and he almost dropped to his knees in pain. It was agony unlike anything he had ever felt before, and the worst part is that he didn't even know if it would work. He looked at the kids in front of him, all of whom had recoiled at the sight of his self mutilation, then to the two bodyguards in the ground before he turned and ran.

He had to get to the permanent portal in the ops room.

He had to get to New York. To Magnus.

He had to know.

 

Alarms sounded as he raced through the corridor, bouncing off the high ceilings and drowning out the steady pulse of Magnus in his mind. He ran without care, knocking people over in his haste, but ignoring their shouts as he ran. He had to get the portal before they could stop him. He had to know. He heard the pounding of feet behind him and he knew that his kids along with further reinforcements were not far behind. He just had to be faster.

All his hopes were dashed as he rounded the corner to the ops room and came face to face with a veritable army between him and the portal. Greystairs surprised Alec by being front and centre as he skidded to a halt, seraph blade in hand. He looked at Alec and his mangled rune, and revulsion crossed his features.

Alec felt rather than saw the crowd behind him arrive and closed in, completely encircling him.

“Please, “ Alec said, voice rough with pain and sorrow, “just tell me if he is alive. If any of them are. I need to know”

“You need to know nothing,” Greystairs snarled. “That filthy warlock got what he deserved.”

Alec raised his seraph blade and pointed it directly at his throat. “You keep your mouth shut about Magnus,” he threatened, or at least tried to. As soon as the word Magnus passed his lips, pain lanced through him from the disfigured rune on his neck, and it was all Alec could do not to weep.

The rune was still active. Even if he somehow managed to fight his way to the portal, he wasn't getting out of here.

Greystairs laughed a long and cruel laugh at the undoubtedly heartbroken expression in Alec’s face.

“Did you honestly think that would work? He gestured with his free hand to Alec's neck. “If you think it's that easy to get rid of that rune then why the hell would we give you access to weapons? No, you idiot child. It's not that easy.”

Alec tightened his grip in the blade, trying to fight off the crushing despair that threatened to overtake him.

He really wasn't getting out of here and back to Magnus.

“Hand over the weapon,” Greystairs ordered.

“Tell me if he's alive first.”

“No.”

“Please,” Alec all but begged, “I will hand over my weapon. I won’t cause any trouble, I swear on the Angel. Just tell me if Magnus and my friends are still alive.”

Again, revulsion crossed Greystairs features.

“You're a pathetic excuse for a Shadowhunter. We're supposed to eradicate demons, not fuck them,” he taunted crudely. “I mean, I don’t even get the appeal. Nothing good has ever come from the Downworld. The only thing they're good for is dying.”

He barely got the words out before Alec attacked. He knew it was a lost cause; there were almost two dozen people between him and the portal, a portal he couldn't even use anyway. But he couldn't just stand there and let that racist, homophobic asshole spew his vile hate, so he raised his weapon and charged at Greystairs.

Alec was almost immediately disarmed. It wasn't by Greystairs, whose blade Alec had managed to deflect and in doing so, knocked him on his ass, but by one of his usual escorts. He came at him from the side and slammed the hilt of his blade into the meat of Alec’s shoulder, causing the muscle to spasm and him to drop his weapon. Another of the guards took advantage of his lack of weapon and shoved him back roughly. Alec swung wildly, training kicking in but perfection giving way to pain and despair. A sharp punch to the gut and knock to the back of the head had him in the floor, where multiple feet kicked and stomped him into submission.

Pain exploded across his face and chest, and Alec could swear he actually heard his rib snap. He didn’t know how long it went on for, but he knew it was far longer than necessary to subdue him. His ears were ringing, so Alec didn't recognise the voice that eventually called them off. He moaned softly, any and all pride gone in the midst of his despair, blood spilling into a messy pool on the shiny, marble floor.

Alec was really starting to fucking hate marble.

“Take him to his room and make sure he stays there,” someone, probably Greystairs, ordered. “I don't want to see him for at least a week.”

Alec felt rough hands grabbing him and he cried out in pain as he was hauled to his feet and dragged down the familiar route to his room. Someone opened the door and he was shoved inside where he collapsed where he had stood.

His captors didn't care.

They just shut the door and runed it locked behind them.

The ceiling span in lazy circles above him.

His body ached and his head hurt. A painful throbbing seared at the back of his head,  echoing the frantic beats of his heart. Magnus name laid heavily on his tongue, begging to burst forth with each and every breath he took. Only the knowledge that the flare of pain from his Confinement rune would send his already battered body into unconsciousness made him held his tongue. He could feel Jace’s worry and panic through their shared Parabatai rune, but all he could really focus on was Magnus and how he had entirely consumed his thoughts.

Was he still alive? They said he’d been badly injured; they _gloated about it_. Hell, they outright taunted him. Magnus and Maia were amongst the injured and the possibly dead. Were they dead? Did they get away? If they did, how? Did someone help them? Was the most important person in his life even alive right now? There was no way for Alec to find out. No one would tell him, Greystairs would’ve made sure of that. He seemed to have taken up a perverse pleasure in keeping Alec up to date with the rapidly deteriorating relationship between the Clave and the Downworld, particularly the war zone that New York was becoming. He would give Alec just enough information, but torture him by never giving any details, and it was breaking Alec’s heart.

“Magnus,” he whispered brokenly, unable to stop himself or the tears that stung his eyes. Pain seared through him, centred on then Confinement rune on his neck and not a second later, Alec slipped into bleak unconsciousness.

 

  
  
The next thing Alec was aware of was someone leaning over him. Instinct kicked in and he balled his hand into a fist and swung out his arm to defend himself, grunting with the pain that screamed through his muscles. He hand was slapped easily away, and someone grabbed him by the wrist, slamming it down to the rough surface beneath him.

“Hold still,” a rough voice barked, and Alec blinked to clear his vision. A tall, thin man with a shock of red hair leaned over him, poking and prodding at the various cuts and bruises on his arms. Alec tried to sit up, but his shoulders were pinned down by someone out of his direct field of vision. He struggled in the grip, looking around wildly, and assessed two things; one, that he was still in his room, and two, whoever that was poking at him had at least four bodyguards there with him. He had been put onto the uncomfortable camp bed, probably when he’d been found unconscious, and Alec thought he vaguely recognised the man in front of him as one of the Alicante Institute’s medics. He didn’t know his name.

He looked up behind him to the head of the bed to see Philip Dawntide glaring down at him, the bruising caused by Alec’s attack fading with the obvious help of an Iratze. He held his hands to the bed in a crushing grip, using far more force than was necessary in his Alec’s weakened state. He blinked slowly, thoughts sluggish as the adrenaline of waking up faded and the aches and pains of his body made themselves known. He ached _everywhere_. Everything hurt, even breathing. His head pounded and his vision faded in and out of blurriness.

More rough hands grabbed his chin and they turned his face. He blinked as bright lights were rapidly shone in his eyes and he tried to pull away, but Dawntide shifted his grip on his arms and Alec couldn’t move. It was over quickly, leaving bright spots in his vision.

“He’s got a concussion,” the medic informed Dawntide, standing and beginning to put his instruments away. Alec wanted to protest that he was _right there_ , and to talk to _him_ , not Dawntide, but he was still trying to clear his vision and breathe without wanting to scream. “Two cracked ribs, so they'll need to be wrapped. A mild to severe concussion, but it shouldn’t kill him. Numerous cuts and deep tissue bruising. He’s going to hurt for a while. His cut on his neck is the worst,” he said, roughly slapping a bandage on his neck to cover the gash.

Finally, he turned to Alec. “Do you know where you are?” he asked, raising a lid to look into his eyes again. “Do you remember what happened?”

“Magnus,” Alec whispered and then cried out as the smell of burnt flesh assaulted his nose.

“Do you remember what happened?” the medic repeated, anger tinging his tone at Alec’s response.

“Please… is he alive?” Alec asked, his voice getting stronger. “Has he officially been reported dead?”

What could only be described as pure hatred flickered across the medics face and he stood again, stepping back from the bed.

“You’re pathetic, Lightwood, but you’ll live. More’s the pity,” he said as he turned to leave. “You’ll be in a hell of a lot of pain for a few weeks until you heal, but it's no more than you deserve.”

“Wait Doc,” Terence Clearwater said, stopping the medic with a hand on his arm as he tried to leave. Clearwater was one of Alec’s regular assigned guards, and whilst Alec still didn’t like him, he was the most decent of the lot really. “Aren’t you going to give him an Iratze to help him heal?”

The medic shrugged off his arm before turned to look at Alec. His eyes never left Alec’s, even though he was clearly speaking to Clearwater.

“Did you know I had a baby sister?” he asked almost conversationally, though no one in the room was fooled by the light tone. “Aimee was five years younger than me and smart as a whip. She was going to be one of the best of us, one day.” He turned to face Clearwater, grief heavy in his eyes. “She was 19 when she was ripped apart by werewolves while she was patrolling the Brocelind Plains. This… traitor,” he pointed angrily at Alec, voice raising with each successive word “would have me make nice with her murderers and their ilk. Wants me to feel sympathy for the people who killed the most important person in my life. Wants me to feel _sorry_  for him.”

He straightened, smoothing down his hair in an obvious reflex, and picked up his bag again.

“No. I will not Iratze him. He is a traitor, and doesn’t deserve our care, nor our respect. I will have one of my team deliver some bandages for his injuries and to bind his chest with, but I am done here.”

With that, he opened the door and walked out without looking back once. After a long beat of silence, Dawntide huffed and released Alec, not without one more threatening squeeze, and Alec knew he would be paying for his rebellion for a while. He walked out, the other guards followed suit until only Clearwater and Alec remained.

“Please,” Alec begged. “Tell me. Is he alive? I can’t…”

Clearwater was obviously torn between what he perceived as his duty and his conscience. A harsh “Terence!” shouted from the hallway broke the silence, and Clearwater turned to go.

“Please! Just tell me!” Alec begged, trying to lever himself up from the bed, but collapsed back, gasping in pain.

“Sorry, Lightwood.” Clearwater said softly and closed the door behind him.

Alec laid on his bed, gasping in pain with tears streaking down his cheeks. No one was going to tell him anything. This not knowing was torture. It couldn’t get any worse.

  
  
  
But because of how Alec’s life worked these days, of course it got worse.

  
  
  
Alec didn’t know how much time had passed since the medic had left. He’d been unable to move from his spot on the bed, the broken ribs and dizziness keeping him pinned as effectively as Dawntide’s hands ever had. He could feel Jace’s rage, fear and sorrow through their parabatai bond, but couldn’t get a bead on the source of the emotions. He didn’t know if all the rage and pain was for Alec, or for the loss of friends, and it killed him that he could be the cause of pain for his Parabatai. His thoughts were filled with Jace and his family, but more often than not, his thoughts went to his love.

 

Magnus couldn’t be dead. He’d been alive for hundreds of years, had survived countless battles with both magic and his skills with weapons. He survived Valentine _twice._ This couldn’t have been the end for him. There was no way that someone that powerful, that skilled, would die like that. Alec wouldn’t believe it. He couldn’t. His heart couldn’t accept the possibility.

The next time the door to his room opened, it wasn’t to a medic with a pile of bandages and painkillers. It was to Victor Greystairs and a cadre of guards. As if Alec could even sit up right now, never mind try to take Greystairs out.

“Thought you didn’t want to see me again for at least a week,” Alec slurred from where getting was huddled in the cot. He had barely moved since the medic had left, too heartsick to find the will to get himself up and about to stop his battered body locking.  Every inch of him throbbed in agony, but it was nothing compare to the torment of his own mind.

“Yes well, that was the plan,” Greystairs sniffed, “but word of your escape attempt has reached the Council and I've been instructed to ensure that you’re at least alive in here.”

“And what if I wasn't?”

“Well, I'm sure someone, somewhere, would mourn your passing. It just wouldn't be me.” Greystairs’ eyes swept over Alec's bruised and bloody body and he sighed. “I understand from Dr Kaeten that you will make a full recovery”

“It would go faster with an Iratze,” Alec mumbled, biting back a whimper as he pushed himself up into a sitting position. He hated not being able to look him in the eye.

Greystairs raised a silver eyebrow at him.

“I’m guessing my medic didn't see it fit to give you one.”

“He blames me for siding with the Downworld when his sister was killed by rogue wolves.”

“He always was a bit over the top when it came to his baby sister” Greystairs mused. “However, who am I to go against doctors orders?”

“Please,” Alec broke, lurching forward slightly and gasping at the pain that swept through him. Greystairs turned, a sneer on his lips and obviously preparing to deny any request for an Iratze. But Alec didn’t care about his injuries, not really. He would heal, even if it was slowly. He just needed to know about Magnus. “Will you just tell me? Is he alive?”

Greystairs looked at him for a long moment before he smiled.

“No,” he replied simply and Alec's world fell apart. He struggled to breathe through the pain in his head and in his heart.  So this is what it felt like to die. He leaned back against the wall of his room, panting in pain as tears rolled unbidden down his cheeks. Greystairs’ words echoed in his mind, but the amused smirk on his lips now gave Alec a second of pause.

“Wait, you said no. Do you mean no, you won't tell me, or no, he’s not not alive?”

“Just, no.” Greystairs replied, and then he was gone, leaving Alec more in the dark than ever. His mind spun with possibilities and he couldn’t help the tiny spark of hope that flickered deep inside him. Maybe Magnus wasn’t dead. Maybe he had survived, and Greystairs was just being a dick to torture Alec. Surely someone would tell him for sure at some point. They had to.

Alec smiled grimly, determination pushing him to his feet. If Greystairs had thought that the uncertainty would destroy Alec, then he was wrong. He had done a very foolish thing. He had given Alec hope. And wars have been fought and won on less.

 

 

There was no clock in Alec’s room, but he estimated it was several hours before the door opened again. Springwell had slammed it open without warning, startling Alec from where he was making his careful way back from a long and painful shower. He was only wearing sweatpants, his torso bare and already showing a mess of deep purple bruising and lacerations. Alec hadn’t been able to raise his arms to put a shirt on as the pain in his ribs had reduced him to tears and made every movement halting and slow, though the hot water had helped to take the edge off it a little bit. But Springwell’s unceremonious entrance caused Alec to flinch which left him hissing in pain as he cradled his ribs.

  
Springwell was healed; an Iratze had done its job to dispel any lingering marks or bruising from Alec’s attack, but it hadn’t improved his mood anymore than seeing Alec did. He stalked forward and shoved a small cloth bag at Alec, pushing him backwards towards the wall and making him cry out in pain. Without another word, he turned on his heel and left, once again slamming the door behind him.

Black spots danced in Alec’s vision as the overwhelming pain in his ribs threatened to drag him into unconsciousness. He panted, trying desperately to get some air past the screaming pain in his chest. His body had slid down the wall so he was sitting on the floor. His legs didn’t have the energy to last much longer anyways.

Slowly, far too slowly, the pain eased and Alec could breathe a little easier. He stayed slumped on the floor as he opened the bag Springwell had ‘given’ him. Inside were several bandages for him to wrap his ribs with, some antiseptic to keep his cuts clean and a few dressings for the wound on his neck. That was it. No pain killers. No anti-inflammatories. Zero assistance.

Alec took as deep a breath as he could, pushing himself up the wall through gritted teeth. He would be fine. He’s had both concussions and fractured ribs before, and whilst an Iratze had helped immensely, it had simply sped up the healing process. He’d just have to wait and heal the Mundane way. Wonderful.

Alec was glad there was no one else around as he slowly wrapped his ribs. He couldn’t help the tears and whimpers of pain that escaped his lips during the process, and he was unwilling to give the assholes keeping him here any more ammunition. He was sweating and panting with pain by the time he was done, but the wrap was as good as he was going to get.

He remembered a lecture from a 15 year old Izzy, back when he was 17 and had broken a rib when a Dahak demon had sent him through a wall. Jace had killed the thing before it could do any more damage to Alec, but he was still confined to his room for 24 hours to rest. Izzy and Jace had sat with him for most of the period; Jace making asshole comments whilst not-so-subtly mother-henning Alec within an inch of his life and Izzy reprimanding Alec on the proper treatment for broken ribs. The memory of Izzy sitting on the end of his bed with a massive medical tome on her lap as she talked about ' _taking deep breaths to keep your lungs clear. Stop laughing Jace, this is important!’_  made him smile.

So, Alec followed her instructions. He took as deep breaths as he could. He re-applied a dressing to the wound on his neck which had started to bleed again in the shower. The hot water had started a slow ooze of blood so he’d taken the dressing off and thrown it in the trash, but now he used the antiseptic and dressed it as best he could. It would scar, of that there was no doubt. But Alec didn’t care. He was alive. Magnus was possibly alive. Things could be worse.

 

  
Nothing much happened for the first few days of his confinement. His cadre of guards came in with basic meals for him at regular intervals, and once a day, a heavily protected medic came in to make sure he was healing alright. No one gave him an Iratze and of course, no one gave him any answers. The first question from Alec’s lips every time was about Magnus, but so far, no one was talking. This gave Alec more hope, as he was certain that Dawntide would have used it to his advantage if Magnus had actually been officially reported as dead.

But the silence was starting to get to him.

Alec was a loner by nature. Even as a child, he’d been quiet and much preferred a good book to anyone else’s company. The only real exceptions were his siblings, Jace included, and later on, Magnus. But even then, he needed someone to talk to, someone who’ll answer him back. All he got gruff, non answers from his guards and the medic was practically mute in his presence.

He was alone with his thoughts, unable to move too much due to his injuries. And all the while, he couldn’t stop thinking about Magnus. The hope he’d held on to when Greystairs had left him had faded over the next few days of silence and uncertainty. A large part of his thoughts were taken over by Magnus: the way he threw his head back and genuinely laughed at Alec’s terrible jokes, the way his nose twitched in his sleep and how he burrowed closer to Alec every time he moved even an inch, the soft look of adoration in his eyes when Alec told him he loved him. The thought that Magnus was dead; that Alec would never get to see him or hold him in his arms, or even have that vague possibility in some nebulously uncertain future, was almost too much for him to bear.

Alec laid there on his uncomfortable cot, struggling to breathe. He thought about Magnus, and about his family, and his friends and the people he knew in the Downworld. He could live with the inaction, but not knowing what was going on was what drove him insane. He’d always been in the loop, always the one everyone talked to and the one who knew everyone’s secrets. The silence was driving him mad.

 

  
By day four, the bruising had gone down enough that he could move about a bit easier. Alec still couldn’t raise his arms enough to put on a t-shirt without his ribs screaming at him, so he refrained. He picked at the meal that Clearwater had left by his door a few hours previously, though he had no actual appetite. His stomach was in constant knots, but Alec tried to force down a few mouthfuls of food. Taking as much as he could, he slid the tray back across the floor with his foot and laid back on the cot, concentrating on his breathing.

 

On day five, when Springwell arrived with his evening blandness and when he saw the still untouched tray of food from that morning, he slammed it down onto his dresser and stalked across to where Alec was sitting with his back against the wall. His rough pulling and dragging of Alec’s arms had snapped him out of his stupor and he hissed in pain as his ribs flared up.

“Back off,” he warned, trying to push Springwell away.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Springwell snarled, finally locating what he was looking for low on Alec’s side, his nourishment rune. With a swift swipe of the stele, the rune was activated and Alec gasped at the rush of energy it granted him, using the bit of extra strength to struggle painfully to his feet.

“What the hell?” he demanded of Springwell, who was already halfway out the door.

“You’re not to die. Inquisitor’s orders.” Springwell told him as he closed the door behind him.

Wait, what? Why does he have to survive? What’s so special about him? You’d think it would be easier for the Clave if Alec was suddenly met with an ‘accident’ and died.

Alec blinked slowly at the thoughts whirring through his head, his thoughts sluggish from the injuries and the pain.

It was kind of obvious really, when he thought about it. He was leverage.

He was being kept as leverage to keep someone in line. That was the only explanation. The Clave would gladly see him dead, but as long as he was alive, they could hold him over someone’s head as a guarantee of good behaviour or co-operation.

But who?

His family?

Or… Magnus?

  
  
  
By day seven, Alec felt like he was going to go out of his mind. He’d taken to pacing in his room, slowly building up his strength and he babied his ribs back to health as much as he could. It hurt less to breathe now and Alec knew that was always good. He had barely slept in the past few days, mind spinning with possibilities. What was happening out there that the Inquisitor needed him alive for? The uncertainty was driving him mad. He scratched at the still healing scar on his neck from where he had tried to cut through the rune and sighed. Was it Magnus? Was that who they were holding him hostage against?

Alec was fairly sure that Magnus was alive; partly because he couldn’t bear the thought of him dead, but also because of how everyone around him were behaving. And Alec knew that if Magnus were to die, he would feel it somehow. Their connection went too deep for it to be otherwise.

Once again, the door swing open suddenly making Alec jump, but this time, instead of Springwell slamming the door against the wall, it was Greystairs and his entourage.

“So, Mr Lightwood, how’s your time out been?” he smirked. “Feeling repentant for all the trouble you’ve caused?”

“Where’s Magnus?” Alec asked, powering through the pain from his rune. “What’s happened to him?”

Greystairs rolled his eyes at him. “Are you still on that? Your precious Warlock is gone.”

“I don’t believe you,” Alec retorted. “Magnus is far too powerful to be killed by the likes of Aldertree.”

“But you still don’t know for sure,” Greystairs sing-songed. Alec clenched his fists and locked his elbows in an attempt to stop himself from lashing out. As satisfying as knocking Greystairs on his ass again would be, he’d only end up back in here for another week or more. Or somewhere worse. And he has to know. He has to find out what happened to Magnus.

“He was badly injured trying to save the wolf bitch bartender,” he mused. “It was pretty bloody in there, and I know Aldertree got some hits in. I think it was three on one at the end? Aldertree and some of his security guys took him down before he managed to portal and run away like the coward he is.” Every word Greystairs spoke stoked the fire of hatred to flame deeper within Alec, and he shook with rage.

“I am going to make Aldertree very, very sorry he dared to raise a blade to him,” he said, voice tight with reigned in emotion. “Magnus and all those people in the bar? They were innocent. They had done nothing wrong, especially not something that would have been grounds for summary execution like that. I know this because I actually spent time there. I know them, and Maia and Luke would never let their people get out of hand.”

“But they were judged guilty by the Clave,” Greystrairs mocked. “Are you saying the Clave is wrong?”

“Obviously,” Alec ground out through gritted teeth, and Greystairs smiled a mockery of a sad smile.

“Oh Mr Lightwood, with that attitude, I can’t possibly let you out and about in the Institute just yet. Who knows what you’ll do. Another three days before you resume classes? Four?”

Alec turned away and took in a deep, shuddering breath. He would not let that asshole get to him. Alec could manage a few more days.

“Four it is then,” Greystairs said almost cheerfully. “See you then.”

And then he was gone.

  


 

The next few days didn’t go well for Alec. He was trapped inside his own head, his own thoughts causing a downward spiral, and without his bow to practice with, or the ability to take it out on a punching bag or blow it out in the gym, he was stuck with his own thoughts and it was driving him crazy. If his ribs weren’t still fucked up and he could move about more, it wouldn’t be so bad. But at the moment, lack of action, uncertainty of Magnus’ wellbeing and the lack of a distraction was causing him to fall deeper into the recesses of his mind . He wished he was with Magnus, even just to talk to him. Nothing made him feel better than talking out his problems with him. On his own, he wasn’t doing too great.

Which was why on the 11th day post his escape attempt, when Greystairs came in to goad him, Alec kept his head down and his mouth shut. Seeming pissed that he couldn’t fish a response from him, the head of the Institute ordered him back to work and to his classes, effective the next day.

 

 

 

Because this was Alec’s life, _of course_  the first class he had the next day were the kids who had witnessed his escape attempt. The murmur of conversation petered out to silence as Alec appeared through the door of the training room, flanked by four silent and pissed off looking guards. He walked to the front of the room, ignoring the seraph blades in their hands and settled into position in front of his class. His students stared at him, taking in the still bruised skin and newly scarred cuts, their gaze bouncing from him to the guards and back.

Alec hadn’t been issued a weapon or a stele and his kids definitely noticed the omission. Part of Alec was glad for it, because that meant he wouldn’t have to actually spar with anyone today which was probably a good thing. His ribs were definitely not up for it yet. His students stared at him, distrust written plainly on their faces and Alec sighed. Best get this over with.

“You can’t freeze up like that again,” he said suddenly and his kids jerked in unison at his tone. Their reactions were actually quite amusing and Alec smirked a little. If they were expecting an apology from Alec, then they had another thing coming. He would never apologise for trying to help his family.

“Twelve days ago, when I… tried to escape, none of you tried to stop me,” he continued. “You weren’t expecting it from me and hence, all of you froze. If you do that out in the field, you're dead.” They looked at him as if he was speaking Greek and he could only sigh. “Look, in the 45 seconds it took me to take down two of my guards, (Alec ignored the indignant grunt from Dawntide and sour look from Springwell at the reminder, though he thought they may have been more offended by his use of air quotes at the word ‘guards’) not a single one of you came to try and stop me. You stood there and watched and you can’t do that, because if I meant any of you any harm, you wouldn’t have a chance.”

“So what? You’re telling us you did it for our own good? That you did it as a lesson for us?” Thomas sneered and Alec rolled his eyes. He had been one of the ones that had treated him decently in the past, but that was just a stupid thing to say.

“Of course not,” he snapped, glaring at the kid. “I did what I did because my friends and the man I love had been badly injured in an unprovoked attack, and I will be dead and dust before I stop fighting with everything I have to get back to them and make sure they’re okay.”

“And that worked out so well for you, didn’t it?” Dawntide drawled as he pushed himself off from the wall he was leaning against and stalked forward. He stopped about a foot away from Alec and twirled the seraph blade in his hand. “Pity about the Demon-Spawn. We could have used him to keep you in line.”

“You’re not fit to speak of him,” Alec said, barely stopping himself from punching him again.

“This is getting you nowhere,” Dawntide snarled, jabbing a quick punch right into Alec’s damaged ribs. Alec doubled over, clutching his side beneath the loose t-shirt he’d worn for his trip through the halls. “Get on with the lesson.”

“Don’t tell me how to teach,” Aleg gasped through the pain. “You clearly don’t know much about having a good teacher, given how easy it was to take you down.”

Dawntide punched him again in the exact same spot and the pain drove Alec to his knees and he felt blood on his lip from where he had bitten it to stop himself from crying out in pain. He gasped for breath and when he could, he looked up at Dawntide and grinned, blood staining his teeth. “My 12 year old brother could kick your ass,” he laughed and it took Clearwater springing forward and grabbing Dawntide to stop him going in for the trifecta.

“Stop it, both of you!” he ordered, pushing Dawntide to the side and reaching out a hand to give Alec some leverage to pull himself to his feet again. “Philip, keep your hands off him and Lightwood, stop baiting him. You have another 55 minutes of the lesson left. Use them wisely.”

Alec swayed on his feet a bit, lightheaded from the pain and he took some deep breaths to centre himself.

“You know we’ll be reporting this to Greystairs, right?” Dawntide couldn’t help one last jibe in Alec’s direction.

“I do not give one single fuck,” Alec told him before he turned to his students, trying to put the exchange out from his mind. “Ok, as you guys can see, I’m in no position to fight today. Break down into pairs and show me what you got.” They eyed him warily, but complied.

  
  


Alec was critiquing a brother-sister Parabatai team’s technique when he heard a soft cough beside him. He nodded for Tiffany and Declan to continue, and turned to see Grace standing at his elbow. She was small and whipcord thin, but quick and smart, and honestly one of Alec’s best students. Unfortunately, she was also the niece of Counsellor Malachai and so hated Alec and everything he stood for.

“Um, Alec? Sir?” Alec was surprised at the respect in her tone. It hadn’t been there before in the seven months he’d known her.

“Yes Grace?”

“We were talking,” she indicated to Thomas and some of their friends clustered behind her, “and we have to know… why haven’t you healed?”

“What?” That’s what was bothering her?

“It’s just, we weren’t told how badly you were injured, but you must have nearly died if an Iratze hasn’t healed you yet.”

“Well, I’m sure an Iratze would have helped, but they refused to activate my rune.”

“What?” Grace gasped, shock written all over her face. “Did they not get you a medic? We saw what they did to stop you and you looked pretty bad.”

“It was the medic that made that decision,” he told her gently. He had the feeling that he was shaking her world view a bit, and he couldn’t be harsh with her. “Grace, don’t forget. They’ve labelled me as a traitor. I don’t have the same citizen rights as you do.”

“But you were severely injured!”

“And I will heal, just a hell of a lot slower than usual,” he assured her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. “I’ll be fine. Back to your drills, please.”

She bit her lip and looked back at her friends, who nodded at her. She turned back to Alec once more.

“What did Dawntide mean when he said they could have used ‘the Demon-Spawn to keep you in line?’”

Alec winced at her words. “Grace, I know you don’t like me, but please don’t call Magnus that again,” he pleaded, wincing at the sharp jab of pain. “He’s one of the best people I’ve ever met. But Dawntide meant that if I didn’t tow the line, they would kill him. They may be too late, I don’t know…”

“Didn’t they tell you what happened to him?” Grace was shocked.

Alec shook his head.

“Lightwood!” Springwell shouted, catching their attention. “Enough chit chat. Back to work.”

“Yes, Sir,” Alec drawled sarcastically, sketching a lazy salute to hide the moisture in his eyes at the thought of Magnus. “You heard the man. Back to work, Grace.”

“Yes sir,” she replied, rolling her eyes. She turned to go but she paused and spun around again, looking him straight in the eye. “Magnus Bane survived the attack on the Hunters Moon. There were several fatalities, including a Mundie cop, but the High Warlock survived. He surfaced long enough to heal Lucian Greymark, but he’s gone into hiding now. He’s one of the Clave’s most wanted, but so far, he’s not been caught.”

And then she was gone back to her friends as if she hadn't just saved Alec's sanity with a few simple words.

He nearly collapsed with the sheer relief that swept through him at her words. Angel, he had hoped and prayed, but he didn’t know for sure. Now he knew.

Magnus was alive. He had survived.

Magnus was alive!

He wanted to laugh, to cry, to scream out with joy at the news, but he knew he couldn’t do that to Grace. She had taken a huge risk to tell him this information. If anyone had overheard her, she could have been accused of collusion and branded a traitor like him. She was just a kid. She didn’t deserve to be de-runed before she had even begun to live, simply for being a decent person.

His heart felt light and he struggled to contain his smile. He looked over at Grace and her friends, and nodded at them in thanks.

 

Perhaps he wasn’t as alone here as he thought.


End file.
